At Sixty

The lilac tree should have grown over the last fifteen years, but a June snow took out a third of it, and it's just now filling out again. The birches died, and have been replaced by young saplings. Spike is slipping away from me, nothing but bones and orange fur and purrs.

In this diminishing world, I hear each day of catastrophes, cyclones, earthquakes, drought and starvation; and closer to home, fires, floods, tornadoes. Extinctions, pending and past.

As a child, I knew of these only at a distance, miles away, and long ago. Now, each tragedy comes as it happens, into my living room, where I sit in comfort and watch children who are not mine buried in rubble, caught in crossfire, too starved to be afraid.

My garden stands up in the rain. The lilac is budding. Crocus and tulips decorate the neighborhood. I know this will not last. The crocus will pass, the tulips, Spike will be buried in the flowerbed. The lilac will flower and go to seed.

Now, I close my eyes and hold my cat.

stones on the ground
    the garden wall
     is falling
  

Comments

[rr]

I'm so glad Spike has you to hold him. Bon courage.

[paisley]

haven't heard from you in a while.. and this poem sounds kind of down... i am hoping you are ok and this was just a passing thought....

[bobbi]

We're experiencing the same with our sweet old orange cat, teddy....he's slipping away slowly...I hope he's not in pain.
You have our condolences, sharon.

[Judith]

Dear Spike! You are holding one another and breathing in sweet waves of love. It is so deeply hard to part.

[Dave Pollard]

Lovely, dark, forlorn. The ability to write raw is something only poets seem able to do gracefully. When others attempt it, it comes out something like this: http://texting.blogspot.com/

There is a perspective in all this that all the addicts to Web 2.0 and Rhapsody and Lets-Save-the-World-Together movements just can't see, just can't feel. Thank you for making me slow down and pay attention to what is really going on.

[deb]

I'm really sorry about Spike, Sharon. I know this has got to be really tough on you.

We buried Sugar under a weeping willow tree. That's what came to mind while I was reading about your plans for your beloved cat. It's so hard to watch them slip away. My heart goes out to you and to Spike.

*big hug*

[PetMono]

I don't know what prompted a visit to your site today. Have not meant to be away so long. But then I read this post and once again one is reminded of spiritual bonds I can easily bury under the rug. There is the 60 that one of our household members celebrated 2/22 - wish it was me. Then Spike. We have a 20-year-old blind cat named Mr. Rodney (he is very polite) and he gets louder each and every day. I have a draft going about "Letting Go" inspired by MR.

Thank you so much for again putting into words which paint pictures.